I’m not really quite sure where on earth December has gone, but it has. Last weekend saw Isabelle pay her first ever visit to Father Christmas, she insists on calling him that and not surely the easier to say Santa.
She was most excited munching her way through a bag of crisps as we waited in line to visist him at Alton’s garden centre near Basildon. This was obviously one of teh places to see Santa – I mean Father Christmas – as you had to book slots on line.
We shuffled along his ‘cave’ past several animatronic Santa’s playing musical instruments and perhaps the largest amount of cotton wool sheets masquerading as snow in all of Essex.
Still, finally we reached a wall. We knocked on it and then it opened – all very Harry Poter like – to see Sa-I mean Father Christmas in his chair in his Grotto.
Initially we weren’t sure how Isabelle was going to react but she was fine with him and even ended up giving him a high five. In return Isabelle got a small cuddly Rudolph – which she has had with her as a constant – and a Christmas Tree cutting.
When asked what she wanted from Father Christmas this year Isabelle replied “presents under a tree”, which I thought was rather sweet. No this, that and the other…but just presents under a tree.
Dawn of the Dad 